Rescuer
by HaleyDub
Summary: One of our own newsies rescues a mysterious girl from an unknown attacker and gets in way over his head...
1. one

ch.1 The knife's blade was cold against her throat. 

"Don't move. Don't breathe." 

She couldn't stop herself from choking out, "What are you going to do to me?" 

In the damp darkness of the Manhattan alley, the girl could sense the sinister grin that crept across the young man's face. However, before he could make a reply, he was knocked to the ground by blunt force. The knife fell to the ground, its bloodstained blade clicking against the cobblestones. 

Silhouettes of two young men brawling in the alley were barely visible, but the girl's apparent rescuer was, seemingly, the stronger of the two, for after a moment her assailant was out cold on the ground. The young man, breathing hard, drew a hand across his mouth, smearing blood across his right cheek. Grimacing, he wiped the blood that was on his hand across the right leg of his pants and made his way over to the girl, who had huddled in a far corner of the alley during the fight. 

Absent-mindedly, the girl brought a hand to her throat and was startled to feel warm, sticky blood oozing onto her fingertips. 

"You all right?" 

She looked up to meet a pair of dark brown eyes staring intently at her. "I...never realized that he cut me." 

Concerned, the young man took her hand and helped her up. "C'mere, let me take a look." 

He led the girl out of the alley and into the soft glow of the street lamps. Leaning forward, he examined her lily-white throat. After much thought, he met her eyes. "Ain't much more than a little cut. You're fine." 

A short pause followed as the two shuffled nervously in the dim glow. Finally, the girl whispered, "Thank you." 

"Why you out so late? It's dangerous," the young man inquired, a tone of concern evident in his voice. 

The girl answered not, but took that moment to get a good look at her rescuer. He was not exceptionally tall, though still some two inches taller than she. His wavy brown-black hair, skin tone, build, and features suggested Italian descent. She found him rather handsome, thought years of street life had toughened him outwardly, hardening his features and setting a look to his eyes that only children of the streets posessed. 

Touching the girl's face with a calloused hand so as to snap her from her trance, the young man gently said, "I asked you a question. Didn't you hear me?" 

"Yes, I heard," she answered in a voice just above a whisper. "But I cannot answer you." 

Something in this girl's voice suggested fear and sparked suspicion in the young man's mind. He wanted to know why she kept hidden her reasons for being out in the streets so late at night. She was from a middle-class family, he could tell as much. The girl had auburn hair and blue eyes, and was of a slender frame. Her pale skin was set off by the plain, dark- colored dress she wore. She had soft features and a small nose that was dotted with freckles. 

Thinking fast, the young man asked, "Where do you live?" 

"Two blocks over, end of the row. Apartment 13B in the red brick building," she answered. "Could you walk me home?" 

The young man took hold of her arm, thinking as fast as he could to make something up. He wasn't letting her leave until he found out why she was out. There was no reason for a girl her age, and she looked to be near seventeen, to be wandering the streets late at night. He was suspicious, he sensed that something was wrong, and he decided then and there that he wanted to help this girl. To be able to do it, however, was the problem on his hands. 

"Look here, this is the way I see it," he began gruffly, leading her in the direction opposite of the way to get back to her apartment. "I just saved your neck, so you owe me something, right? To me, saving a life is about the biggest favor I can do for anyone, so that means you owe me big. 'Course, at this point, I'm not sure what you owe me. Maybe I just need a friend. A girl who's a friend. Normally, a girl like you would turn her nose up at me, that's why maybe I want you to know that I'm not trash. I don't know. But I'll think of something." The young man was an experienced liar, but so far that talent wasn't serving him well. 

Horror in her eyes, she tried to jerk away from him, but he held her fast. Finally, deciding that resistance was futile, she looked up at him, frightened. "You don't want to hurt me, do you?" 

"Don't be ridiculous," the young man laughed. "I'm not that kind of guy. I guess I just want some company besides that of the guys at the lodging house." 

"But you don't need to kidnap me to be my friend!" she exclaimed. 

"Girl, face it," he said, becoming more pleased with his lie as it progressed, "if I'd let you go, you would have gone back home and never even given me a second glance had we ever met on the street." 

Several moments passed as they walked down the street, now arm-in-arm. The young man turned to the girl. "Well, I guess if you're gonna be around for a while I need to know your name." 

"Madeline Smith," she whispered, staring at the ground. 

Curiously, Madeline didn't seem very distressed that a strange young man had practically kidnapped her for no reason. He noticed this and it only added to his suspicion. 

"Here it is," he said as they stopped in front of a building. "The Newsboys Lodging House." 

"Pray, what is your name? I might as well know yours, also," Madeline said, staring up at the young man for an answer. 

As he opened the door for her, he answered, "They call me Racetrack. Racetrack Higgins." 


	2. two

Kloppman eyed Racetrack and Madeline as they entered the lobby of the lodging house. "Got yerself a new girl, Higgins?" he asked, staring at her over the rims of his glasses. 

"Uh, no, Klop, I, uh...she jist needs a place to stay," he answered, puzzled as to why he wasn't as slick a liar as usual. _What's the matter with me, huh?_

Kloppman nodded and muttered something to himself. "Well, d'ya want to stay upstairs in the girls' room - " 

"No, no...thank you, sir," Madeline stammered. "Do you have someplace secluded?" 

_She don't want her presence known, I s'pect,_ Race thought, eyeing the girl who stood expectantly, awaiting Kloppman's reply. 

The old man scratched his head, deep in thought. "Well, ah...no, missy. There's the attic, but - " 

"The attic will be perfect, thank you," she cut in quickly, hoping that Kloppman would comply. 

To her luck, he did. "Well, then, I guess there ain't no harm in lettin' ya stay up there...Racetrack, get 'er a couple blankets and a pillow, if ya can find one." 

Race nodded and turned, heading upstairs. Kloppman, instead of leading Madeline in the way of the attic, eyed her and asked, "You, eh, hidin' from somebody?" 

Madeline's blue eyes flashed shock, anger, and defiance at the old man's forwardness, which took him aback. In an indignant tone, she inquired, "And what would make you think that, sir?" 

Kloppman, slightly intimidated, decided that he would be better to let it go. "Ah, fergit it, kid. C'mon, let me show you the way to the attic." 

The old man made his way out from behind his desk, and Madeline followed a few paces behind him. She paid close attention to everything that she saw in the lodging house; every door, every window, every dark corner where a menace could lurk. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and enjoyed the smell of cedar, however old it might be. 

Madeline followed Kloppman up two wide flights of stairs, down several hallways, and finally up a narrow, steep staircase that led to the attic. The room itself was covered in several layers of dust, and was dark and grimy. Trying not to show the least amount of disgust, Madeline thanked Kloppman and he left her alone in the gloomy room. 

Feeling a bit nosy, she began to poke through several boxes and drawers, but found nothing of great importance. Bored with the attic already, she crossed the room to the window, which looked like it hadn't been cleaned in twenty years, and used the sleeve of her dress to smear away the grime on one pane. 

Looking down on the street below, Madeline observed the people coming and going. She watched the newsies and the bootblacks hard at work, and had a laugh at the antics of streetside actors. Then, she saw him. He looked straight up and made eye contact with her, even from behind the grimy window pane. Gasping, she jerked away from the window and retreated to an especially dark recess of the attic. 

_Maybe it was all my imagination. Maybe he didn't see me,_ she thought, a cold shiver running through her body. 

"Mad - " 

She jumped, and placed a hand over her racing heart. Racetrack, too, was a bit surprised. Madeline swallowed hard. "Racetrack, I didn't know it was you!" 

"Who else would it be?" he asked, putting down the two blankets and the thin pillow that he had managed to gather. 

"No one," she whispered, remembering his face and shuddering at the thought. 

"Is there...is there anything ya'd like to talk about?" Race asked her gently, sitting down in the floor beside her. 

Shaking her head violently, Madeline answered, "No. I wish to leave it all behind, thank you." 

"Well, ah, since you're sort of my prisoner...ya hungry?" he asked. 

A smile played on her lips. "You're _asking_ me?" 

"Well, 'course. I couldn't be mean to ya, now could I?" 

"Some prison warden you'd make," Madeline grinned. 

Race blushed. "I know, I'm too nice, right? Well, c'mon, you wanna come eat with me? I'm goin' over to a hot dog stand." 

"No, I don't wish to come," she answered, paling. "It isn't you, Racetrack, it's...I can't." 

Nodding, Race asked no further questions. "Well, I'll bring somethin' to ya, then." 

"Thank you," Madeline answered. 

Racetrack stood up and waved a hand. "See ya 'round." 

Madeline nodded and watched Race turn and exit the attic by way of the steep staircase. 


	3. three

A cold hand rested on Madeline's arm and in her sleep she shivered. Shadows of distant faces she wished to forget floated to her mind's eye, and she cried out in fear, only to be hushed by Racetrack, who had brought her hot dog to the attic. 

"Maddie...Maddie, you okay?" he whispered as she sat curled up in the corner, her head resting on the wall. "It's me, Race." 

She whimpered slightly and opened her eyes, relieved to see Racetrack and not him...not _any_ of them. "I...I am sorry...I must have dozed off." 

"Were ya havin' a nightmare?" Race asked, handing her the hotdog and a glass of water, which she accepted gratefully. 

"N-no," she lied, taking a drink and then a bite of her dinner in an attempt to avoid Racetrack's questioning. 

"Listen, Madeline, I plan to find out what you're hiding. It ain't normal for - " 

"What do _you_ know of normalcy?" she snapped, a contemptuous look in her sparkling eyes. "You're a newsboy, you have no family. I have a family..." she trailed off. _And once I had a normal life._

"Havin' a family don't mean nothin'," Race snapped back, sending his angry glare out the window rather than to her face. 

A cold silence followed as the two adolescents sat on the cold attic floor, listening to the wind whistle in through the cracks in the ceiling. Finally, Madeline whispered, "Thank you." 

"Ah, it was nothin'," Race answered. "The hot dog didn't cost but three pennies - " 

"No, for saving me. I knew that J - that _he_ would have killed me if not for you." She looked hard at Racetrack, who flinched a bit in her gaze. 

"Ah, well, I was comin' back late from the races, and I really don't know what made me stop an' look in that alley. I mean, I didn't hear nothin'. Somethin' just told me to stop. I can't explain," Racetrack answered, staring at the dirty floor. _So all I know is his name starts with a 'J', so that means she must know the guy. Beau? Brother? Relative? I'm gonna figure this out sooner or later. I'd prefer it be sooner, but I can tell she wants to keep everything secret._

"What are you thinking about?" Madeline inquired, gazing at the Italian. 

"Ah, nothin' important," he answered, averting his eyes. 

"Hmm. You're a very bad liar. Has anyone ever told you that?" 

Race made no reply. _I was a _good_ liar 'till today..._

"Well, I am fatigued, Racetrack, so may I sleep?" 

Looking to the mysterious auburn-haired girl, Racetrack nodded. "'Course. I myself need some sleep." He stood up and brushed off the seat of his pants. "'Night." 

With that, Racetrack disappeared down the dark staircase, leaving Madeline to her thoughts and menacing nightmares. 

*******

In a dark alley several blocks away, Jim Gaines slowly regained his senses and opened his eyes ever so slightly. His head pounded as he pulled himself into a sitting position. Cursing like the madman he was, he exclaimed, "She got away!" 

Standing ever so slowly, he brushed himself off and started out the alley. However, he remembered that his weapon of choice was still lying on the cobblestones, and he turned back to retrieve it. When he saw the sticky blood that covered the edge of the blade, he grinned a crooked grin. _Maybe I got her after all. But where is she?_

Every bone in Jim's body cracked and ached as he pocketed the evidence and casually sauntered down the dimly-lit city street. He walked two blocks and started up the steps of a red brick apartment building, climbing to the second floor and heading to the end of the row, apartment 13B. 

Sighing heavily, he knocked on the door in a pattern: one knock, pause, two knocks, pause, three taps with the index finger. Suddenly, the door cracked open and the careworn face of a middle-aged woman peered out. "Oh, hello Jim! Make yourself welcome." She was careful to make no mention of the bruises and various cuts on Jim; she knew too well of the barfights and gambling brawls he was famous for getting into. 

Jim hadn't counted on Mrs. Smith to still be awake. "Is Tom in?" 

"Yes," she answered, supressing a yawn. "You will find Thomas in the study." 

"Thank you, ma'am," Jim answered, heading toward Mr. Tom Smith's study. 

"Tom?" he asked, peering into the room. 

Tom, who was in his late forties, looked up at Jim and motioned for him to step inside. "What's the news? You look a little roughed up." 

"Madeline...was attacked," Jim lied, and very well. 

Before Tom could say anything, Jim continued. "I tried to stop it, but the guy knocked me out and took off with her. Goodness knows where's she's at now." 

Tom said nothing, but sat there in shock. Madeline was his only child, and she was his angel. "But...how..." 

"I don't know, sir," he answered, hanging his head. "But I will begin looking for her immediately. Don't worry. I'll get some of the fellas to help." _And I **will** find her, make no mistake._


	4. four

Bright and early, Racetrack came bursting through the attic door. "Maddie! Hey, Maddie! Wake up!" 

"Huh?" she muttered groggily, rolling over and burying her face in the thin pillow. "Go away." 

"Time for work," Race said, poking Madeline in the side with his foot. 

She sat up faster that Race had ever seen someone sit up, especially early in the morning. "You mean I...I have to go _out there_?" she asked fearfully, pointing toward the window. 

"Yep," he answered. "Why, is there somebody out there you're hiding from?" 

"No! Of course not!" she sputtered indignantly. 

Race looked at her a moment, a smile playing on his lips. "You an awful liar. Have I told ya that?" 

A tear rolled down Madeline's cheek. "Yes, I _am_ running from someone." 

Genuinely concerned, Racetrack sat down beside her. "Who is it? I might be able to help ya...or somethin' like that." 

Madeline hesitated for a moment, and then sighed. "He goes by the name of Jim Gaines. He's trying to kill me, and several of his buddies roam the streets. If they see me..." she trailed off. "The first day you brought me here, I looked out the window...Jim's pal Nate was standing down there on the street, looking up. I...I could swear he saw me." 

"Gaines, huh? What's he after you for?" 

"I...he...Racetrack, I...I can't." 

It was then that Racetrack noticed she was trembling with fear. He reached out and touched her arm. "It's okay, Maddie. You don't have to tell me, I ain't makin' you." 

She nodded, avoiding eye contact with the young Italian. He continued, "And...and if ya don't wanna go out, you don't have to. I ain't makin' ya do that, either." 

Madeline almost cracked a smile. "And you're supposed to be my kidnapper." 

"Eh," Race grinned, "whatever you say, prisoner." He stood up. "Well, I'm off to hawk headlines...at the tracks..." 

"Gambling is an awful habit," Madeline chided, staring Racetrack down. 

He stuck his hands in his pockets and turned them inside-out. Raising his hands innocently, he grinned. "How can I gamble if I ain't got no money?" 

"Oh, I'm sure you'll find a way," Madeline muttered, trying to conceal the smile that crept to her lips. 

"See ya later, Maddie," Race smiled, turning and heading downstairs. 

"Bye Race," she whispered, smiling. Suddenly, Madeline was exhausted, and she lay back down, pulling her thin blanket up to her chin and closing her eyes. Soon, sleep overcame her and she was catapulted into the world of a nightmare... 

_Madeline sat at the kitchen table, having a rather pleasant conversation with her mother, who was cooking dinner. "Madeline? Could you please go get your father and tell him that supper's on?" _

"Yes, ma'am," she obeyed, standing and exiting the kitchen and heading toward the main room of the apartment, where her father usually could be found reading the day's newspaper. However, the living room was empty, and the only other place her father would be was in his study, and Madeline was not allowed into Tom's study under any circumstances. 

However, Madeline reasoned, "What could possibly be so bad that I can't go tell him that supper's ready?" And so, she headed toward the study. Muffled voices could be heard from inside. 

"Yeah, Tom's gone to get the direction's to th' bank in Jersey City that Nate's gonna hit next," Jim said. 

Madeline pressed her ear to the door. Tom had obviously exited through the fire escape, which was right outside his study window. She listened hard, and for a moment all the boys talked about was poker and drinking and the like - most of which Madeline could have done without hearing. 

"Ain't Tom gettin' something else, too?" Nate asked. 

Toby spoke up. "Yeh, he's gettin' Jim's next hit lined up. Eh, Jim?" 

"Yeh, that's right, Tob," Jim answered. "I got me a rich ol' coot t' hit this time 'round. Tom says I can keep forty percent of the goods, too." 

Madeline bit her lip. Her father was involved in organized crime? 

The guys "oohed" and "aahed" at this rare blessing. It was usually that the hitmen got thirty percent, but Jim was accomplished. Sam, another young man, asked, "What weapon ya got this time, Jim?" 

"Eh, knife. Gun's too loud, might attract attention," he answered. 

Madeline bit down on her lip so hard it began to bleed, but a cry of fear and anguish escaped her lips. Before she could get away from the door, it jerked open and slammed against the wall. Jim stuck his head out, spotting Madeline. "Well, well, we got us a little eavesdropper, here, boys..." 

Frightened, Madeline made a run for the apartment door, jerked it open, and raced down the stairs as fast as she could in her stiff boots. Jim followed her angrily, finally catching up to her in an alley and holding his knife to her throat. It was then that Racetrack found her. He barrelled into Jim, knocking him down, and Madeline collapsed. 

Awakening in a cold sweat, Madeline sat up quickly, looking around. After a moment, her heart stopped racing and she lay back down, tears rolling down her cheeks. She buried her face in the thin pillow and cried herself back to sleep. This time, her sleep was peaceful. 


	5. five

"Nate." 

The young man heard his name called and pulled the brim of his bowler hat up from over his eyes. There stood Jim Gaines in front of him. "Mind if I sit down?" 

Nate raised a hand and motioned for Jim to sit down. The streetcorner pub was dimly lit, so neither hitman had to worry about being recognized. "Y'wanna drink?" Nate asked him. 

Jim shook his head. Nate raised an eyebrow. "That's the first time y'ever refused an alcoholic drink. Somethin' the matter?" 

"'Course somethin's the matter! I'm lookin' for that girl, that's what!" 

A few heads turned in their direction. Nate shushed Jim. Standing up, he fished in his pocket and pitched a few pennies onto the table, then motioned for Jim to follow. The two left the pub. 

Evening was beginning to set in as the two young men walked silently down the street. "Where we goin'?" Jim asked. 

"We'll find a roof or somethin'. I don't want you attracting any more attention like you jus' did," Nate answered, irritated. 

Jim and Nate walked down Duane Street a ways before picking a random building's fire escape and beginning to climb. 

******* 

Inside the lodging house attic, Racetrack and Madeline sat, eating their dinner, when they heard the fire escape rattling. "Wonder who's climbin' up..." Race wondered aloud, standing and walking over to the window. "It's two guys." 

Madeline's eyes widened and she scooted back into a dark corner, although she could still see out the window. As the two young men climbed up, she caught glimpses of their faces. "Race! Race, it's them!" 

Racetrack hurried to her side. "Who's them? Jim?" 

"Jim and Nate," she cried, terrified. She clung to Race's shirt for dear life, but he gently pried her off. "C'mon, we'll get you outta this mess. C'mon." 

Race led Madeline down the stairs to the boys' washroom. Opening a lavatory door, he pushed her inside. "Stay here. I'll go back up and see what all this is about." 

Madeline nodded, tears coming to her eyes. Race touched her face. "Now, don't cry. It's gonna be all right." 

She nodded again, but tears began to flow freely down her cheeks. "Maddie. Maddie, listen to me." Race put a hand under her chin and gently tipped her head up. "You're gonna be all right. You got that? I'm gonna keep you safe. Now, stay here. I'll come back to get you." 

With that, Race shut the lavatory door and headed back upstairs to the attic. Ever so cautiously, he opened the window to see if he could hear what Nate and Jim were saying. 

"Jim, how did you let her get away?" Nate was asking. 

"Some guy attacked me from behind...I didn't have enough time to react. All I was thinkin' about was the kill. Didn't figure somebody might try to kill me," Jim answered. 

"You're the best man in the business, Jim! How can a hitman get hit by somebody else?" 

_Hitman, huh?_ Race thought. _This gets fishier every minute._

"I don't know, but I told her pop that somebody attacked her and I tried to stop 'im. Her old man bought it, all right. He's got no idea his own daughter's on to his little game." 

"Her old man hittin' tonight?" Nate asked. 

"Yeah, Tom's hittin', but he wouldn't say who." Jim sighed audibly. "Y'wanna come on an' help me look for the girl? She can't go around town spreadin' that her daddy dearest is in organized crime, now can she?" 

"Nah, she wouldn't turn Tom in. But she'd sure as heck rat on us," Nate said, hatred laced in his voice. 

"C'mon, let's get to work," Jim said. 

The two young men began their climb down the fire escape. Race ducked down below the window, and luckily they didn't notice. He breathed a sigh of relief. _'Least they don't know Maddie's here._

However, another thing gnawed at his mind. _She must've found out about her pop's business...There's no way around it, I gotta talk to her about it now._

Race descended the stairs and entered the washroom. Kid Blink and Jack Kelly were washing their hands and faces, conversing loudly about the girls they were going out with that night. When they saw Race, they immediately started asking him what he was going to do, if he was going to the tracks or to Medda's. Race, wishing that they would get out so that he could get Madeline, answered, "I ain't feelin' so good, guys." 

"Eh, c'mon, a drink at Medda's might cheer ya up," Jack said, clapping Race on the back. 

Instead of answering, Race rushed to the lavatory stall adjacent to Madeline's and pretended to retch. His plan worked. 

"Uhh, well, take it easy, Race," Blink said as he and Jack rushed out of the washroom. Neither wanted whatever Race had. 

Race stood and peered out. No one was left in the washroom. "Maddie?" he called, opening the stall door. 

She looked up at him, her face tear-stained. "Are they gone?" 

"Yeah," he answered, taking her arm and pulling her out. "They didn't even know you was here." 

Madeline looked at Race. "Really?" 

"Yeah, but I gotta talk to you about somethin'." 

Racetrack and Madeline climbed the stairs to the attic and sat back down. "Them two was just up on the roof talkin'. They had no idea you're here, 'else they would've busted in already. No, they were talkin' about...about their business. Your pop's business." 

Madeline hung her head in shame. "I should have told you." 

"Well, I know what he's into now, but...did you walk in on a meeting or somethin', to make those two so mad?" 

Madeline sniffed. "Well, Father doesn't know that I know. I was listening at his study door...I was supposed to call him for supper, but he never allowed me into his study. I thought it might be all right, just that one time. But I heard...voices, so I listened...and Jim opened the door and saw me, and took off after me, then he got me in that alley, and then you came..." All this was a rambling through tears. 

Race pulled Madeline into his arms. "It's all right. We won't talk about it any more." 

There Madeline remained until she cried herself to sleep. 


	6. six

Tom Smith carefully polished the blade of his favorite knife. His mind wasn't on his work, however. He was worried about his daughter. 

Tom sighed and carefully sat the knife down on the desk in front of him. "Where could she be?" he asked himself, rubbing a hand over his face. "Where could she be?" 

Emmeline, Madeline's mother, had been out searching for her every day since her disappearance. She was afraid to go to the police about it, for Emmeline knew that her husband and his buddies were up to no good. However, she didn't want to know exactly what they were into, and she never asked. 

Tom himself only left the apartment under the cover of night. He was worried about his daughter, of course, but he couldn't afford to be arrested. The business came before everything else. 

Picking up his knife again, Tom sighed. It was time for work. As he stood up, there was a knock at the window. Tom looked out to see Jim, Nate, and Toby standing on the fire escape, and motioned for them to come in. "Change of plans, boys. We can't meet tonight. I got an important hit to make." 

"What? You didn't tell us about it before. The other guys are on their way already," Jim said. 

"Yeah, boss, you used to tell us when you got hits. There a problem?" Nate asked him. 

Tom shook his head. "No, there ain't a problem. There's just been a lot on my mind lately." He took a step toward the door and placed his hand on the knob, but turned around to face the three young men. "You boys stay here and let the others know I'm gone. We'll meet tomorrow night." 

Jim and Nate nodded as Tom opened the door and left, closing it behind him. Toby was fuming. "Why does he take all the good hits? I ain't had nothin' good since I got started in this business." 

"You have to work your way up, Tob," Jim answered, lighting a cigarette confidently and taking a long drag. 

Toby said nothing more, but stood up and left the apartment by way of the fire escape. 

******* 

Racetrack sat in the lobby of the lodging house, puffing on a cigar. He was giving Madeline some privacy; anyway, he thought it was rude to smoke in front of girls. Madeline hated it. 

Mush came into the lobby and plopped down beside Race. "Where ya been, Race? You've been kinda scarce lately." 

"Eh, here and there," Race muttered, taking a long puff of the cheap cigar and letting it out slowly. 

"Sheez, don't be so vague about it. Ya got a girl or somethin'?" Mush asked, grinning and nudging Race. 

"No, I ain't got a girl. I've just been busy." 

"Oh...well, I guess I'll see ya 'round, Race," Mush said, standing and heading upstairs. 

Race sighed. _At least Mush can take a hint._

"Now to th' problem at hand," he muttered to himself. "How'm I supposed to keep protectin' her? She can't live in the attic forever." 

He stood and paced back and forth. All this would lead to no good, he just knew it. 

******* 

Tom walked under the cover of shadows toward Duane Street. He had a businessman to hit, and the job promised big bucks. 

"Psst! Tom!" 

Toby walked quickly to catch up with his boss. "Who ya hittin'?" 

"That ain't your concern. You know you're not supposed to follow me," Tom answered, irritated. 

"Ah, c'mon, boss. I can help," Toby answered eagerly. 

"No, Tob. This ain't your job." Tom quickened his pace and turned down Duane. Toby stayed on his heels, silent. 

"Go home, Toby," Tom said firmly, staring the young man down. 

The two had stopped under a streetlight illuminating the Newsboys Lodging house sign, and Tom was impatient to get out of the light. Toby glared at him fiercely, a flame appearing in his eyes that Tom had never seen before. A hatred that craved vengeance. 

"Not 'till I get mine, Tom." 

Toby stood his ground, staring his boss down. "Toby. Go home," Tom instructed, a bit more gently this time, but still as firm. 

"No!" Toby screamed in fury, suddenly running at Tom and knocking the middle-aged man to the ground. As Tom fought the strength of the younger man, Toby managed to pull a blade from his pocket and held it to Tom's throat. 

"Who's yer hit?!" Toby asked forcefully as Tom lessened his struggle for fear of death by the blade that was positioned against his jugular. 

Tom stared up at the young hitman. _I should have seen this coming..._ Tom thought as Toby glared down at him. Tom had thought from the first that Toby's temper would serve him well, but he'd never feared that it would be turned against him. 

Suddenly, a cry penetrated the silence of the night. 

"Papa!" 

Madeline stood on the steps of the lodging house, terror in her eyes. Tom cast his eyes toward his daughter, thankful that she was alive. 

Toby, with Tom pinned to the ground, looked at Madeline with a sickening grin, then drove down upon the blade. A look of horror and despair covered Madeline's face as she watched the gruesome scene unfold before her. She let out a piercing scream and fainted dead away on the steps as her father paled and breathed his last. 

Toby looked down at his blood-soaked hands and shirt. Then he cast his gaze at Tom, who stared blankly into the night sky, his eyes glazed, face pale. Shaking, Toby pulled himself up to his feet and backed away several paces, his gaze fixed upon the murdered man. 

Racetrack rushed outside, first noticing Madeline's unconcious form on the steps. He gathered her into his arms before his eyes rested upon the horrific sight in the street. Toby, beads of sweat gathering on his forehead, stared at Racetrack, then back at Tom. Then, he spun and began to run. Before he rounded the corner, however, Toby glanced back one last time at the dead man who lay on the cobblestones. 

Kloppman came out the front door and froze in his tracks. "Higgins...get the police." 

Racetrack's head whipped around and he stared at Kloppman. "I can't, Klop. She needs me." 

Madeline, who had risen back to conciousness, was holding tightly to Race's shirt, her face buried in his chest. He was rocking back and forth, comforting her as she sobbed. Kloppman looked upon the miserable girl with sad eyes. "I'll get Mush," he said quietly, turning and entering the lodging house. 

Racetrack looked down at Madeline. "C'mon, Maddie, let's get you inside," he coaxed gently, pulling her to her feet. 

"Don't make me look at him, Race. Don't make me look at him," she sobbed, hiding her face in his chest. 

"You don't have to look, Maddie. C'mon, let's go inside." 

Racetrack gently led Madeline inside, where commotion was mounting as news spread of the murder outside the building. Mush looked at Racetrack grimly as he left the lodging house, averting his eyes from the fallen man, and ran toward the nearest police station. 

Racetrack led the trembling Madeline up the stairs to the attic and helped her lie down. He covered her with her blanket. 

"Don't leave, Race, please don't," she cried, reaching up and grabbing his hand. 

Race sat down beside her and held onto her hand. "I won't leave ya, Maddie. I promise." 


	7. seven

_*AUTHOR'S NOTE* Thanks so much to Kora for helping me come up with the plot twist that spans most of the remainder of this story. YOU ROCK! *grin* _

******* 

As Racetrack scaned the headlines the next morning, something caught his eye: "MURDER SUSPECT EVADES POLICE; LEADS NECESSARY FOR CAPTURE". _You mean they couldn't even catch the lousy bum?!_

Race took a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. He had planned on selling, but circumstances being what they were... 

Trying not to draw attention to himself, Race quietly left his stack of papers on the steps of the circulation building and slipped out through the open gates. He had searching to do. 

Although his memory was somewhat shady, Race remembered the appearances of Nate and Jim. Toby was another matter - Racetrack couldn't forget the look on his face after he'd murdered Tom Smith, no matter how hard he tried to block it out. 

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Race dropped his head a little and began to search the streets as he walked. Ducking inside the nearest pub, he sat down at a table and looked carefully around the dimly-lit building; however, there was no sign of any of the young hitmen. Race left the pub and began his street search once more until he reached yet another pub, and entered same as before. This routine continued with no luck for several hours, until Race reached the Blue Diamond and entered expecting the same results as before. However, luck was on his side, for across the room at a table in the corner sat Nate, Jim, and two unidentifiable young men. Toby wasn't among them. 

Racetrack slinked over to the table and tipped his hat to Jim, who in turn tipped his bowler. "I hear you fellas got a good business goin'," Race said. 

Jim raised an eyebrow. "Oh, yeah? What's it to you?" 

"Well," Race answered, "I've just abandoned the business of sellin' newspapers to the general public in search of a higher-payin' gig." 

Jim gave him a once-over, then nodded toward the table behind them. "Pull up a chair." 

Race did so, after which Jim introduced himself as well as the other three young men. "Jim Gaines. That there's Nate, Ashley, and Eli." 

Nodding to them, Racetrack said, "Name's Joe DiMarco," a lie, of course. "So can ya give me a run-through of what you fellas do?" 

"Well, right now the business is at a standstill," Jim answered in a hushed, discreet tone, "on account of one a' the guys murdered our boss last night. Tom was on the way to a hit down Duane Street when Toby jumped him." 

Race's ears perked. "Oh yeah?" 

Jim nodded. "Toby thought he was gonna run the business after he killed off Tom, but all he's doin' is runnin' from the bulls." Race nodded as Jim continued. "But these fellas say they want me to run the business now, so I guess once I get my plans in order, we can start hittin' again." 

"But what do you do, exactly?" Race asked, becoming more interested than he had meant to. 

"Well, I line up your hits, then you find the guy, do 'im in, and keep sixty percent of the profits," Jim answered, more silently than before. 

"Don't sound half bad. When do we meet?" Race asked, slightly taken but trying to keep matters strictly about tracking down Toby. 

"Tomorrow, noon, here. We used to meet in Tom's apartment but...well, circumstances bein' what they are - " 

"I understand," Race cut in. 

Jim nodded. "Well, fellas, we'll meet here at noon tomorrow then. Got it?" 

The other three young men nodded their compliance. Race looked to each of them. "Nice meetin' you fellas." 

"Nice meetin' you, Joe," Jim, Nate, Ashley, and Eli said as Race stood and left the pub. Gradually, the other four young men left so as to keep from drawing unnecessary attention to themselves. 

******* 

Back at the lodging house, Madeline was sitting by the attic window. She wasn't alone, however; Kid Blink sat with her, keeping her company. The two had shared a conversation for several hours, although Madeline was distant. Blink understood this, and now he sat quietly with her. 

Blink turned toward Race when he heard his footsteps on the stairs. "Where were you, 'Track? I ain't seen you all day." 

"Eh, out an' about," Race answered, sitting on the floor. "Wanted to try a new sellin' spot or two." 

Blink narrowed his eye. "You left your stack of papes at the circulation building." 

When Race didn't answer, Blink sighed. "Nice talkin' to ya, Maddie," he said, turning and heading downstairs. 

"Where were you, Race?" Madeline asked him quietly. 

"Lookin' for Toby," he answered, which was the truth, but not the whole truth. Madeline didn't need to know. 

"Oh..." she sighed, looking out the dingy window into the street below. 

"You want anything to eat?" Race asked her. 

She shook her head. "No. I'm not hungry." 

"Wanna come downstairs where it's warmer?" 

"I don't care." 

Race sighed and looked at Madeline with sympathy. The poor girl had been through too much, and it was really beginning to show. Her hair was unkempt; her face was drawn - too drawn for a girl as young as she; there were dark circles under her eyes. She was very much playing the role of "damsel in distress", and doing it well. Suddenly, she looked up at Race. "Papa was looking for me. Why else would he have been on this street, right in front of this building?" 

Racetrack knew exactly why Tom had been on that street; he was going for a hit. It had nothing to do with Madeline. "Maddie, he was going for a hit." 

Madeline's head whipped around and she glared at Race with an emotion he'd never seen her display; on top of that, he wasn't even sure how to read the look she gave him. "That's not true. He was looking for me!" 

"Maddie, I heard some guys in town talkin' about it today. I didn't see their faces - " 

"Jim and Nate...did they see you?" 

"New York's a crowded place - " 

"He was looking for me, Racetrack, wasn't he?" Madeline lunged at Race and grabbed him by his shirt collar. "_Wasn't he?!_" 

Slowly, Race shook his head, looking into Madeline's eyes. She let go of his shirt as a tear slid down her cheek. Then, instead of letting Racetrack take her in his arms like she had so many times before, she coldly turned to the window and let her silent tears fall. 


	8. eight

At noon, the five young men discreetly met in the back of the Blue Diamond Pub. Racetrack watched the door for Toby, just in case he had somehow gotten wind of the meeting. Jim sat at the end of the table, looking solemnly at the other four young men. "Boys, we gotta get back in business today. Can't wait any longer. We gotta feed ourselves, right?" 

Everyone but Racetrack nodded, although he discovered himself to be silently in agreement with Jim. It _was_ true, after all: you have to eat to live. Besides, what harm would come of sitting in with these guys in order to track down Toby? Racetrack was convinced that he was doing it all for Madeline. 

"Now, on to business," Jim stated, taking hold of the brim of his bowler and pulling his hat down slowly. "Ashley and Eli, you two are teamed. Nate and Joe, you two are teamed. I'm going alone." 

"Who we got?" Eli asked impatiently. 

"Hold on there, I'm gettin' to it," Jim answered, pulling a folded piece of paper from his breast pocket. "Eli, you two got an old croney by the name of Walter Dell. Rich fella. Here's the address." Jim tore off part of the paper and handed it to Ashley, who silently read it and handed it to Eli. 

Jim talked as he tore off the second address and handed it to Racetrack. Race read, "18th Street, the red brick tenement, 13B". _Why does that sound familiar?_ Race thought, but shook it off. "Now," Jim said, "Nate knows who this is, so he can fill you in later, Joe. Let's just say it's a former friend who knows too much." 

Race nodded, but his uneasy feeling was growing. Ashley looked to Jim. "Who you got tonight?" 

"Big-shot. Pulitzer's the name," Jim answered proudly. 

Racetrack's eyes widened. "What?!" 

"You heard me," Jim answered. "Ain't figuring on backing out, are ya?" 

"N-no, it's just that...it's..._Pulitzer_!" Race felt helpless. Sure, Pulitzer had cheated the newsies, caused them to go on strike, and caused many of them to attain criminal records, but none of the newsies had ever wanted to _kill_ him. It was a healthy dislike on both sides of the fence. 

Race shook off his panic and took a deep breath. Jim stared him down. "Joe, you gotta realize that you're dealing with a group of very dangerous people. One wrong move, one wrong word, one wrong _breath_ - " Jim paused for effect " - will get you killed." 

Race drew a shaky breath and nodded. Nate nudged him with his elbow. "Remember, DiMarco, this is a job you gotta be tough for. Can't have no conscience." 

"Don't worry, all beginners think like you," Ashley said. "After the first few hits it's like slicing butter with a hot knife." 

"Well put, Ashley," Jim said, nodding in the young man's direction. He stood and addressed the group. "Good luck on your jobs tonight." 

With that, Jim turned and exited the pub, leaving the other four young men sitting around the table. Eli and Ashley got up and left after a moment, leaving Nate and Race sitting there. 

"So who is it?" Race asked Nate. 

Nate looked at Race. "You'll find out. We meet on Delancey Street tonight and walk up to 18th. Got it?" 

Race nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I got it." 

Nate stood to leave. "See ya then. Eight-thirty. Don't be late." 

Racetrack watched Nate exit the pub. He sat at the now empty table, staring at his hands. All he wanted to do was find Toby. _If this is what it takes to track 'im down, I guess I gotta stay in. I'm doing it for Maddie. For Maddie._ Sighing, Race stood and left the pub, walking up street and down alley until he was back at the lodging house on Duane Street. He climbed the stairs and entered through the front door, passing Kloppman and heading toward the attic stairs. 

"She ain't up there, Higgins," Kloppman called to him. 

Race turned around and walked over to Kloppman's desk. "Where is she?" 

"Upstairs playin' poker with the boys," the old man answered with a twinkle in his eye. 

"Oh, all right," Race muttered, running up the stairs to the bunkroom. 

Madeline was sitting on a bunk, glaring down at her cards. "Bad hand, Maddie?" Race asked her as he took a seat beside her. "Y'know, you oughta develop a poker face." 

Madeline ignored Race and announced, "Fold," as she lay her cards in a stack face-down on the floor in the center of the circle she and several of the boys had made for their "table". Also playing were Snitch, Skittery, Boots, and Mush. 

"Deal me in," Race said. 

Skittery looked up at him. "We got enough." 

"I don't believe this," Race muttered. "Since when did you start blowin' me off, huh?" 

No answer came from the five as they continued their game. "Two pair," Skittery announced as he laid his cards out. Both Snitch and Boots folded. Mush grinned. "Full House." 

Skittery made a face. Mush held out his hands. "C'mon, fork it over, all-a ya." 

Sighing, the losers dug into their pockets and came out with handfuls of marbles. They each rolled them at Mush. "You've broke us all, Mush!" Snitch exclaimed, pretending to cry. 

Boots laughed at him and stood up. "Well, I'm gone. Anybody wanna come get somethin' to eat?" 

"I'm with you," Snitch answered, following him out of the bunkroom. 

Mush and Skittery sat still, looking up at Race and Madeline, who were ignoring each other. As he stood up, Skittery said, "I think that you two need to talk. C'mon, Mush, help me with that thing." 

"Thing? Thing - _ohhhh_ that _thing_!" Mush exclaimed, hurriedly following Skittery out of the bunkroom. 

Racetrack and Madeline sat in stony silence for a moment. Finally, she spoke up. "I know who you've been with, Race, and I know what you're getting yourself into." 

Race was taken aback. "What are you talkin' about, Maddie?" 

"Don't play dumb with me, Racetrack Higgins!" Madeline exclaimed, standing quickly. "You know exactly what I'm talking about! You've been off with Jim and Nate." 

"I've been lookin' for Toby!" Race exclaimed, standing. "I thought by being near them I might have a higher chance of findin' him." 

"Yes, I'm sure that's what you thought at first," Madeline said, "but now they've spun you into their web. They have and you know it!" 

"Maddie, I - " 

"Please don't do this to me, Race!" Madeline exclaimed, stepping close to him and taking his face in her hands. "Don't do this to yourself." 

Racetrack averted his eyes to the ground. "I have to find him, Maddie. For you. I'm doing this for you." 

Madeline shook her head in defeat and let go of his face. She turned and left the bunkroom without another word. 

******* 

Later that night, Racetrack left the lodging house and headed toward Delancey Street. Madeline watched from the attic window as he sauntered down Duane Street. With a heavy heart, she slowly stood and climbed down the attic stairs. She silently walked over to Kloppman's desk, where he was scribbling furiously into a ledger. Madeline cleared her throat. "Mr. Kloppman?" 

The old man looked up. "What can I do fer ye, Maddie?" 

Her voice wavering, Madeline asked, "Mr. Kloppman, do you have a gun?" 

Kloppman's brow furrowed. "Now, why are ye askin' me that?" 

"Please, something terrible is going to happen. Just bring me the gun!" Madeline exclaimed frantically. 

Kloppman disappeared for a moment and then came back brandishing a pistol. "I don't even know why I'm givin' this to ye." 

"You'll understand soon," she answered, taking it from him and concealing it in her skirt. "Thank you." 

With that, Madeline disappeared out the door and headed down the street in the direction that Racetrack had taken. 


	9. nine

Racetrack made his way toward Delancey Street under the cover of shadow. However, before he reached the street, he took a sudden turn and headed toward the police station. Removing a folded piece of paper from his pocket, he unfolded it and looked down to make sure the addresses were correct. He couldn't stand by and let Pulitzer and Dell be murdered. 

Folding the paper back up again, Racetrack stepped into the station and lay the paper on the desk of the nearest officer. Before the officer could look up and see who had dropped the paper, Race was already out the door. Slowly, the officer unfolded the paper to read the addresses and the small note that had been printed in chickenscratch handwriting: "Trouble." 

The officer quickly spread the word and several detachments headed to both scenes. Meanwhile, Racetrack was back on his path to Delancey Street, this time with Madeline close on his heels. 

_How have I caught up with him?_ she wondered as she trailed him to his and Nate's meeting spot. 

Before Racetrack could ask any questions, Nate began walking. "This way. Stay out of the light." 

Madeline waited a long time before following the two. 

Racetrack and Nate finally reached 18th Street and headed toward the red brick building that had been mentioned in their directions to the hit. Sticking his hand in his pocket, Race felt for the knife that he had brought along. The two silently climbed the stairs to the second floor and headed down the hallway to apartment 13B. As they stood outside the door, Race asked, "Nate, tell me who it is." 

"A lady by the name of Emmeline Smith. Tom Smith's wife. She knows too much about the business, so it's necessary to get rid of her. We've been after her daughter Madeline for a while now, but so far no luck. You might could help us with that one." 

Racetrack's face went white. This was Madeline's _mother_! 

Before Nate raised his hand to knock, Racetrack pulled out his knife and lunged at Nate, knocking him to the floor. He tried to pin Nate down, but the other young man struggled fiercely. Suddenly, a gunshot rang out, and Racetrack felt a sharp pain in his lower back. Gasping, he tried to keep fighting Nate, but the other young man had the advantage and threw Racetrack off him. Race landed in a crumpled heap on the floor, blood staining his white shirt. 

Suddenly, there was a shriek, and Nate looked toward the noise to see Madeline standing there, holding a pistol. Nate rushed toward her, knife in hand, but Madeline pulled the trigger. Once again, a shot rang out, followed by a groan and the sickening thud of Nate falling to the floor. Madeline rushed to him, and found that he was dead. With a shuddering sigh, she closed his open eyes. 

Suddenly, she heard a low groan. "Maddie?" 

With a gasp, she rushed to Race's side. "R-Racetrack, I..." 

"Is this...is this any way to treat your rescuer?" Racetrack whispered through gasps for breath. The pain was suffocating. 

Tears fell from Madeline's eyes as she pulled Race's head into her lap. "I...I thought that - " 

"Shh, I know, I know. And I don't blame you, Maddie." Racetrack's brown eyes, now dull, stared into Madeline's blue eyes. 

Madeline was suddenly seized by wracking sobs as she rested her forehead upon Race's. "I'm sorry, Race," she sobbed. "I thought you were huring my mother." 

"I...Maddie, I didn't know we would come here," he whispered, gazing up at her. "But when I found out...I knew...that I had to stop Nate." 

A small crowd had gathered around Nate's fallen form as well as around Racetrack and Madeline. Race looked up at the concerned faces. "Please leave us alone for a minute," Race whispered. The people nodded and dispersed; or rather, headed toward Nate. 

Racetrack moved his eyes back to Madeline's face. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Maddie." 

"But...but Race, I _shot_ you!" she exclaimed, fresh tears coming to her eyes. 

"I'm gonna be fine, so long as you get me to a hospital," Race said, taking hold of Madeline's hand. 

"I will," she answered. "There's a man down the hall who owns a buggy, we can take you in that." 

Race nodded, staring up at her. Madeline gazed at him, and suddenly, on impulse, she leaned down and kissed him softly. She was surprised when he responded, tightening his grip on her hand. When Madeline pulled away, Race was smiling. "I saw that one comin' a mile off," he whispered, his grin growing wider. 

"Sure you did," Madeline whispered. "I'm going to find Mr. Hayes." 

She stood slowly, lowering Race's head to the floor, and dashed down the hallway to her neighbor's room. 

******* 

Racetrack slowly opened his eyes and let them adjust to the white light. There was an aching pain in his lower back, and for a moment he couldn't remember why. Then, it suddenly came back to him in a rush, and he turned his head on the pillow to see Madeline sitting beside him, smiling. "Did they get the bullet?" he asked. 

Madeline nodded. "They did. You've been out for a day and a half." 

He raised his hands to rub his eyes. "That long, huh? And I'm still sleepy, can you believe that?" 

Madeline smiled. Race recalled something, and asked, "Have you heard anything about Jim, Eli, or Ashley? I turned them in..." 

"Yes, they were all arrested, much to the thanks and relief of Mr. Pulitzer and Mr. Dell," she answered. "Is...is that how I caught up to you? Did you stop by the police station?" 

Race smiled. "Yeah." 

"And it's all over the papers, what you did. Saving my mother, stopping Nate..." 

"You're kidding," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Y'mean I'll be yellin' headlines about myself when I go back to work?" 

"Looks that way," Madeline grinned. Suddenly she was aware of Race gazing at her. 

"C'mere, let me tell you somethin'," Race said, motioning for her to come closer. 

Madeline leaned down a bit, but Race persisted. "Closer, Maddie!" 

She moved closer until Race could move his face to the side of hers and whisper, "I love ya, Maddie." 

Madeline moved back a bit to smile at Racetrack. "I love you, too." 

Race grinned. "Sure you're not sayin' that just 'cause I'm hurt?" 

"Oh, I'm sure," Madeline answered, grinning. 

Racetrack took her face in his hands and kissed her lightly. When the two separated, both blushed and smiled. "I think we're even," she grinned, taking hold of his hand. 

Racetrack smiled up at Madeline before he closed his eyes and drifted off into a peaceful sleep. 

THE END


End file.
